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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23221342">Tango</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarddreamer/pseuds/waywarddreamer'>waywarddreamer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bondage, Bottom!Geralt, Character study through porn, Collars, F/F, F/M, Multi, OT3, Praise Kink, Strap-Ons, Switch!Triss, Top!Yennefer, create the content you want to see., inspired by that part, you know what im talking about</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:15:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23221342</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarddreamer/pseuds/waywarddreamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It started off as a trick, a punishment, but over the years they became more than that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tango</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Did I do the thing where I make the characters who are in a love triangle into an OT3. Yes I did.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s the nights when Triss, who as soft and generous as she is, remembers that she too has grown from hardship. Her uncut nails trail the sides of her neck, remembering the innocence that has faded away with time, unable to prevent her fingers from touching the scars that reside both in and outside of her.</p><p>Nights when Geralt kneels down, doing everything in his power to be soft in a world that so desperately wants him to be a monster. His long hair pinned back in a ponytail, and his knees touching the rough ground that is far from the comforts of civilization.</p><p>On nights, when Yennefer thinks too hard about what she has lost and so much that she’s gained, spending hours staring into a mirror. The familiar aching that starts at the bottom of her heart until it eventually sinks into her belly.</p><p> </p><p>They are called to each other.</p><p> </p><p>Not a dingy inn or a bustling tavern, but in an elaborate tent created from the fabrics of Yennefer’s own mind. Yennefer reaches out to her fellow mage who knows the darkness of her magic even from kingdoms away. Triss comes to her, following her siren call, immediately sending back magic that feels like a warm flame, a mere degree off from burning the skin. Triss reaches out to find their wolf.</p><p>Eventually, Yennefer hears the air shifting and puts her wards down so they can come in. Triss removes her hood to allow them both to see her face and Geralt takes the coat from her, gently laying it on a table, next to a pitcher filled with water. He checks over his girls in his ritual, looking for new scars, while they take in his form as well. They can both tell he's exhausted, and his eyes are heavy with slight bags underneath them and they both frown at the state of their Witcher. Sharing fleeting thoughts to make sure he gets his rest. For a second, they consider calling it off, but he shakes his head, eyes shining with desire already. </p><p>They begin.</p><p> </p><p>It’s Yennefer that creates the elaborate gown that Triss resides in, stripping her down until she’s naked, ignoring Geralt’s lustful gaze as the white fabric slides over her, popping out against her skin. Once Triss was just hers.</p><p>Long before the kings, long before the wars, long before they fought over the gaze of a man. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t dare move closer, content to wait his turn.  </p><p> </p><p>She dresses Triss just so she can be the one to tear it off later, making sure touches linger and while she presses against her, lets her feel her muscles. A testament to how strong she is, how easy it would be to hurt her. Triss’s eyes sparkling in delight knowing just how much danger she's in, even with a witcher’s gaze over her. The thrill of knowing how much they all like to watch, no selfish gazes across the room. </p><p>Strange how none of them need to speak anymore. They could do this blindly. Triss calls to the wolf, who is already straining against his pants, who looks so huge and threatening in the gazes of many but small in their own. Aware of how even though he bites, he loathes doing so but this is how the world trained him. Whose fresh scratches that litter his body are now a result of Yennefer’s lust than a monster.  A result of Triss’s curiosity to see just how much he can take. No one would believe them. No one needs to know. </p><p>In a possessive thought, Yennefer remembers just how often she’s inside him, feeling him rock underneath her as she thrust in him. Triss would watch, exclaiming just how beautiful she found the both of them. They would bask underneath the healer’s praise, the tremble in her voice is not born of fear but of admiration. </p><p>They have done this dance for years now, but the nights that Yennefer calls them can be the most daunting. Triss sometimes finds herself at the mercy of Yennefer who sometimes couldn’t even wait for Geralt to remind her of who was truly in charge, pinning the unsuspecting mage against a hard wall. Those nights they would wrestle, throwing magic like it was nothing until Geralt came in the room, demanding them to take in his presence.  Full of toys and bondage they kneel to Yennefer in submission, only knowing her direction until the sun comes up.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt’s nights normally start off with a calming bath. Triss’s herbs doing their work, soaking his tired bones. He’s so delicate underneath his tough skin, and they would all relax into his muscles. He needs to be praised, needs to be wanted until he can’t want anymore. They pull on his hair, wash their witcher from all the ills of the world.  His amber eyes soft and pleading under their gaze.  He wouldn’t fall asleep though, looking over his girls like the protector he claims not to be until Yennefer eventually calls him back to bed. She could always get him to come even when he didn’t want to.</p><p>Triss’s nights they would all be laughing, their blood pumping in desire. She would tease them both, wearing minimal, ignoring their lustful gazes until the animals they claimed not to be reared up in their head. Yennefer could feel her swimming in her thoughts, calling to her yet she could do nothing. She would slide against Geralt while she poured them both wine, seeing his eyes darken at her touch. Not until Triss decides to crawl on top of them. Before she decides the next move.  Predator or prey. Everything would fall silent, once she shows the dagger, hidden in the belt on her thigh. </p><p>But this night belongs to everyone. Yennefer’s greedy. Wanting. Almost blind in her own pleasure she knows that Triss can sense it. She knows that Geralt can smell it in the air. She makes no attempt to hide her arousal. They had made her wait for too long, she watches their tongues slide over their skin, feeling herself pulsing with need. Through the lingerie, she watches Triss’s nipples get hard, while her nails dig into Geralt’s back. </p><p>She circles them while they play, watching them together, a reminder of her power. That she is still in control.  Geralt picks Triss up so carefully like he's afraid that she’s going to break. They fall into the soft mattress, kissing on her neck, hands teasing through cloth. Yet, he makes no move to undress her. He knows better.</p><p>A collar snaps in place and Triss can feel his pleased groan vibrate into her neck, thighs clenching tighter around his hips at the action while she looks at his accessory.  She can remember nights when he has begged her to keep going, riding him until he’s spent all while wearing that exact collar. The feeling of the strain in his throat while she choked him, her arousal grows under these thoughts.</p><p>Yennefer yanks on the collar suddenly, tearing him away from Triss. She teases the witcher through his pants, leaning to whisper in his ear.</p><p>“Treat her well.”</p><p>Geralt wouldn’t dare think otherwise.</p><p>Triss’s tongue darts across her lips taking in his size as he twitches. Yennefer leans around him, feeling the softness of Triss’s belly, as she unzips the lace. Triss still flinches at the touch around the hard tissue of the scars on her chest, and Yennefer holds her gaze, waiting for her permission. Geralt notices, and reaches out to grab her hand, gently kissing the back of it and lets her touch his own scars that litter his own body. </p><p>Once the moment passes, when Triss allows the lace to finally slide off her body and into the soft fur carpet. Yennefer lets them go, while she traces the own folds of her body, diving into her own wetnesses as Geralt enters her. </p><p>“You're being such a good boy.” Triss murmurs, making sure that Yennefer can hear her all the while. The praise makes him purr almost. She can hear Triss’s breath hitch as he increases his pace.  Yennefer slides her hand over her own clit, and lets out a breathy moan, Geralt turns to look at her, she reaches out and grabs him by the hair, smirking when he grunts. Thinking about those who fear and yet admire him, clearing the streets when they walk by yet always whispering their desire. Imagine what a witcher can do in bed. Yennefer can speak to it personally. He likes to beg, he likes to be hurt, he likes to submit. </p><p> </p><p>Her hand traces in between the valleys of his muscles, over the harsh scars from claws and fangs, some are from her, scratches on his back nowhere near as deep. </p><p> </p><p>She lets him go and he starts to move inside of Triss again, who rewards him with a gentle kiss on the forehead. She continues her tracing of the map of where he’s been. Every single touch is making Geralt go deeper inside of the mage, spurred on to continue. Triss lifts a hand, gripping his throat harshly as they both came. She loves watching her lovers fall apart, and if she could she would watch it every single day. </p><p> </p><p>They don’t stop, knowing to keep going, until Yennefer cums as well. And her heart beats gleefully, as Geralt reaches down, takes Triss’s hands and places them above her neck, making the healer helpless against him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Good girl.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Geralt is not the only one who enjoys praises, her eyes glaze over and she cums again. Yennefer follows soon afterward, feeling herself clench around her own fingers as she throws her head back, as pleasure pulses through her body. Once she’s done riding it out, she gets up and joins her lovers on the bed, falling in between their embrace. She watches as Geralt cleans her fingers off without being told, his collar shining in the moonlight that she allows to pierce the veil. She knots her fingers into Triss’s hair while she kisses underneath her chin, biting into Yennefer harshly. </p><p> </p><p>It’s then that Yennefer allows herself to succumb to pleasure even though she will be the last one to admit that.  Pulls Triss up by the hair, shows her just what she wants and they adjust. Triss takes the lead, desperate to give her pleasure and Yennefer lets her.</p><p>They keep going until two rounds become three, and they switch places, swaps taste. Geralt is inside of Yennefer while Triss is above her. The girl reminds her of honey the way she falls into her mouth, every thrust he gives her making her press harder into Triss until her mouth comes back stained.  Until three becomes four, and Triss is screaming as Yennefer is inside her, black nails digging into the back of her skin leaving marks, with Geralt chained to the bed, ropes tied around his wrists. And then four becomes five and they begin to truly lose themselves, and this is the reason why they can’t lie at an Inn. The ground shakes with their power, with their lust, and it flows through them and in between the moans and the screaming-they heal each other. </p><p> </p><p>They look at their witcher who has finally fallen asleep in their arms. Yennefer unlatches the collar around his throat and snaps it away to somewhere else in the tent. They reach across their lover's broad chest, interlacing their hands over his heart. Indigo eyes stare into soft brown while they send a message only they can hear. </p><p> </p><p><em>Mine. </em>Triss says, always the possessive one, looking between her and Geralt.</p><p> </p><p><em> Yours. </em>Yennefer says, speaking for them both.</p><p> </p><p>The only thing that pierces the quiet is the rustling of the tent and Geralt’s soft snores. In his sleep, he pulls his mages in,  until they are settled on top of his chest. In their nest, the two mages share one last thought before they drift off into blissful sleep.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ours.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They miss the growing smile on the Witcher's face.</p>
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